


You're Blue Now! [Divergence Side Story]

by Serja



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Literature, Magic, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:43:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serja/pseuds/Serja
Summary: Coming home during mid-year break to an unsurprisingly empty home due to his father and brother still being at work, a young Papyrus opts to use the opportunity to practice a precious new magical skill that Sans taught him recently, leading to some youthful shenanigans and deep reflections in the process.





	You're Blue Now! [Divergence Side Story]

**Author's Note:**

> This is a novelette that I wrote back in October 2017 to expand on Papyrus' back story and how he uses his blue magic in this particular alternate timeline setting that I am building. It was intended to be a rather short one that simply explored his use of blue spectral abilities, but ended up expanding into something greater that touched upon his familial relationships and some insights into his personal struggles. In this setting Papyrus and Sans had a mother who was killed when Papyrus was only 5-6 and their father, W. D. Gaster, is still the Royal Scientist as the accident has not yet occurred. There are obviously many interpretations of these characters in the fandom, and these are simply mine, so while I'd love to hear folks' comments and thoughts, let's keep them awesome and civil in the spirit of the game's message :D
> 
> I recommend using the [Stylus](https://add0n.com/stylus.html) extension to install the [Dark/Night Archive of our Own skin](https://userstyles.org/styles/97658/dark-night-archive-of-our-own) for the best user experience while reading with the custom work style. :)
> 
> Oh, and Papyrus is about 8 years old here, and is still a smol bones. He hasn't yet hit his growth spurts to make him taller than his brother!

The house was quiet. Still. Empty. But not cold. There was a warmth that clung to it despite its present silence, the voices of a family seeming to echo in those walls faintly like memories and imbuing the residence with a love that wasn’t easily dispelled.

The deadbolt jangled a few times before finally flicking open as the key slid home and was turned. The door opened a moment later, the bright white light glistening off the snow outside casting into the twilight of the living room and projecting the shadow of a young skeleton in its frame over the carpet. His long red scarf fluttered in the breeze before he stepped inside, starting to take his red trainers off at the entryway upon closing the door.

“Sans, I’m home!”

No answer.

Papyrus wasn’t honestly surprised to hear the echo of his own voice and nothing more as he put his shoes on the mat by the door. Sans had been working pretty hard between school and the variety of tasks the younger sibling knew his elder brother did to help their father. Aside from the bedtime stories he got each night, they didn’t get to see all that much of each other lately.

That’s why Sans finally teaching him to use his own blue magic had been such a big deal.

The young skeleton glanced toward the kitchen in brief contemplation of a snack before deciding he really wasn’t all that hungry. Truly, he was much too excited over the lesson he had received from his very cool brother. It had been all he could think about the entire day at school, fingers itching with the desire to try this newfound skill out on his classmates.

He knew using his magic on someone else without permission was rude, so he had refrained, even during recess when he really wanted to try. The rest of the kids were just a lot bigger than him and the last time he’d tried to make friends that hadn’t ended so hot either. Sans was his friend, but he wasn’t home. Papyrus mused on this unfortunate fact as he adjusted his backpack whilst heading up the stairs to his room.

The hinges on his door squeaked as he opened it, prompting him to make a mental note to get some oil for them later. It’d be outside in their cool toolshed with the rest of the tools, but he’d just taken his shoes off. It could wait, he reasoned as he tossed his bag on the floor by his desk, peeling off the bright scarf and the slightly more orange jumper to put those away in his closet dutifully. He looked at backpack as he emerged from that walk in storage space, expression contemplative as the door shut behind him with a little click. He knew he needed to get his homework done, but his mind refused to focus on it and if he was honest with himself, it would take him maybe half an hour tops to get it all done.

The idea of tackling it now was nauseatingly boring, and he didn’t even have a stomach.

Still, there was the issue of practicing it without a willing partner. Papyrus found himself pacing a circuit around the empty space in the middle of his room as he tried to work the problem out. Moving often seemed to help him think things through when working on this kind of conundrum, so he let his feet wander while his mental cogs turned. Sans had taught him how to use it by first doing it to Papyrus himself. It had felt cold and made him feel strangely heavy — odd for being a skeleton — but it hadn’t hurt. Something about his brother’s cold aura always felt somehow warm to Papyrus, made him think of home.

It was probably why he loved all the snow, now that he thought about it.

This sidetracking thought was gently tucked away as he returned to the riddle he was trying to solve. It had taken Papyrus a few tries to grab ahold of Sans’ soul in return after being released from the other’s hold. He paused in his walking cycle, looking down at the bones of his hand as the memory sprung fresh behind his mind’s eye. He remembered the way those wisps of blue fire had wreathed his digits, making his soul and bones tingle like there was a mild electric current running through them. Sans had told him the feeling was normal, particularly since he hadn’t used his powers like this before, and as he got better would ease, become a familiar background hum.

It was all the more reason to practice!

But how?

He lifted his gaze to look to the table with all his action figures arrayed so carefully across it, in various states of engagement with each other. Brow-bones furrowed slightly in thought, the bright amber of his eye lights swirling slowly with his mental state. Sans hadn’t said anything about using their blue magic on objects, but that had only been their first lesson! Papyrus was sure it was just a matter of time before the elder got around to teaching him, but with Sans so busy all the time the younger had no idea when that might be.

And, wouldn’t Sans be proud of him if he figured it out on his own? The elder was always saying how smart and clever Papyrus was, after all. It would feel nice to really live up to that praise and pull some of his own weight so his brother didn’t have to carry so much.

The skeleton straightened abruptly as this notion filled him with determination, eyes bright and alight with youthful fervor. Drawing in a deep breath, he felt his magic gather at his call, his bones buzzing with that energy as the azure aura wreathed his hand again. Eyes flicking over the table, he settled on one of the nearer figures that was somewhat separated from the rest as his target. Feeling like he’d gathered enough magic to make his teeth chatter, Papyrus reached out with his hand toward the figure, grasping for it with his mind…

Nothing happened.

_Well, that was rather anticlimactic._

Papyrus hadn’t been successful on his first attempt to grab Sans’ soul either, and action figures didn’t have souls so far as he knew. But everything had at least a little energy in it, some variant of magic. The way you grabbed objects was probably just a little different than how you grabbed souls, that was all. He’d simply need to experiment to figure out how.

The Great Papyrus knew he was more than up to the challenge! He would make Sans proud.

The magic was still flickering around his hand, yearning for a target as his entire being vibrated from the gathered energy. He made himself breathe slowly and steadily even though he wanted to pant; he needed to keep his concentration and focus together and letting the buzz run away with him wouldn’t help his efforts.

_Okay. Step back. Think about what we know._ More rhythmic breathing. _Using blue magic affects gravity for the object. That’s why I felt so heavy when Sans used his blue magic on me._ The magic really felt weird being held for so long, but he didn’t want to waste it by letting it go. _Though he showed me the direction could be changed too. It was really weird standing on the ceiling._ The memory elicited a quiet nyeh heh of a giggle from Papyrus, glad he’d had his socks on and not his shoes. He’d have had no clue how to get dirt off the ceiling like that. _Maybe I could try doing that to myself? Would that even work?_

_Well, only one way to find out,_ he reasoned.

Remembering the way it’d felt when he’d grabbed Sans’ soul with that magic, Papyrus shifted his focus to his own soul, the amber shape thrumming inside his rib cage with nervous excitement. It kind of felt like he was looking at himself from the outside as he laid his own hand above his sternum on the white turtleneck he was wearing, letting the magic from his being loop back to enfold his own soul in its embrace.

Okay, now _that_ felt bizarre.

Papyrus could feel the familiar heaviness of when Sans had done the same to him, but something about the looped current made him feel… _giddy_ for lack of a better word. Elated, maybe? He felt heavy and light at the same time. Like his magic couldn’t decide which way was up. Or at least, which way gravity was supposed to be.

_Maybe I just need to tweak it a little?_ Thinking felt fuzzy with all that magic feeding itself in the loop, but he wasn’t about to give up now. He had a long ways to go to make Sans proud of him after all! _Okay, I can totally, one hundred percent do this. Sans believes in me, and he’s really cool, so it’s my duty to be extra cool for him!_

A sudden cackle escaped him as he realized his inadvertent pun, too elated to be annoyed even slightly about it right now, despite the serious nature of his practice. _All right,_ he started, willing himself to focus, _let’s see if we can change which direction is down._

Drawing in a breath he took a long look at his own magic, seeing how it felt mostly heavy, but those elated feelings were giving weird little ticks in the opposite direction. He could work with that. Eye sockets closed now, he imagined the ceiling as the floor and vice versa, feeling his magic respond as his soul flip-flopped inside his own rib cage.

“Nyeh!” He cried out indignantly as his head hit the ceiling with a sharp sound, breaking his concentration and sending him free falling to the floor, landing on the rug in an ungraceful sprawl. “Ow…” he groaned, his tailbone aching from the impact as he glared up at the ceiling with a mixture of betrayal and excitement. He’d technically done the thing he’d wanted to do, but unlike when Sans had done it, he’d not inverted, resulting in his aching cranium. He hoped it wouldn’t leave a mark as he rubbed at the sore spot lightly. That would worry Sans and his brother didn’t need anything more to worry about.

He’d just have to be more careful.

Picking himself up off the floor, Papyrus tried to recall how it had felt _exactly_ when Sans had rotated him in that one demonstration during their lesson. Nothing unusual came to mind, his soul having done something similar to the flipping he’d experienced moments before in his own attempt. _So why didn’t the rest of me invert?_ He looked up at the ceiling again, one arm folding over his front as the other hand held his chin, head tilted in a contemplative way. Was it a distance thing? The ceiling in the living room was higher than in his bedroom, so maybe he’d gone up too fast to rotate before he smacked his head. Could the speed of the ascent be changed or could he assist that rotation along in some way? Those seemed like reasonable possibilities.

Time to try again.

The magic came easier this time, and he felt more comfortable as he wrapped it around his own soul once more. It still still felt weird, but like he had just a little bit more control over it. He hoped he wasn’t just deluding himself about that bit, but it really did feel that way. A glance was given to the ceiling before he looked down at his socked feet, toes wriggling in anticipation. Could he grab his feet to help spin himself about when he inverted gravity? It seemed worth a try.

Papyrus let the magic wrapping around his soul flow down his bones and pool at the soles of his feet. Another giggle escaped him as he thought about this funny extension of his newfound magic with its resultant wordplay. _Sans would be having a field day right now._ It would have been nice to see that familiar smile, but he really wanted to surprise his brother with something new and cool, so he’d just have to save those double entendres for later. _Okay, no more distractions. Focus, Papyrus. You won’t make any progress lollygagging around._ Pep talk duly delivered, he attempted to use the magic gathered at the bottoms of his feet to nudge him into a faster spin as he reversed the gravity on his own soul with a little more confidence.

The skeleton grunted as he bumped his shoulder into the ceiling this time, fortunately not as hard as his head, and was able to use his arm to nudge away from the new down and get his feet under him with a little more rotation. “Woah.” Up being down felt and looked pretty weird he mused as he examined his room from this new vantage point. Still, he had to admit he was making excellent progress given that Sans had only shown him the most basic ability of their blue magic, and here he was standing on his own ceiling just like his brother had shown him before.

_Man, this is so freaking cool! I wish Sans could see me right now. He’d be grinning ear-hole to ear-hole._

Would he though? Papyrus paused to think about this for a second as he looked over to the table of action figures, now apparently perched on what was perceptually his ceiling at present. His big brother had shown him this little aspect of their ability already, so maybe it wouldn’t be that impressive to him that his sibling had managed this feat.

Doing something Sans _hadn’t_ shown him yet though… _that_ would really make him smile.

Papyrus really wanted to see that smile.

_Okay, let’s try not to end up on our sacrum again._ The youth glanced down at the plush rug above him — or below? Directions were weird right now — and considered briefly how to accomplish that task. In theory, it should be just a simple reversal of the magic that had landed him up here in the first place.

_Whelp, here goes nothing._

This time he kicked off the ceiling in a small jump as he tugged his feet in the opposite direction, feeling the gravity of his soul reverse with a nudge of his will as he suddenly _fell_ toward the rug. Fortunately his feet got below him this time, allowing the agile skeleton to land in a crouch, half rolling forward to take the impact more evenly across his bones. Elation suffused him at his success and he bounced to his feet eagerly, gaze going to the action figure again. _Okay, that_ totally _worked. Maybe it wasn’t very graceful or cool, but we can work on that later! Finesse is just a matter of repetition, after all._

Taking several deep breaths to calm the ecstatic fluttering of his soul — still wrapped in that blue magic — he took the time to examine how he’d tugged his own feet with that magic. He obviously had a soul, being a monster, but it had been a little… different when pushing his own bones with it as opposed to moving just his soul around. The magic he’d pooled there had given him kind of an anchor point to work with in tugging those appendages in the direction he wanted. It was similar to the way he pulled on the magic he’d infused his own soul with, making it feel heavy or light or changing the direction that was _down_ for himself, but there was a subtle difference in the frequency of the vibration he’d been manipulating. Maybe he just had to adjust the frequency of the energy he was hooking onto?

Papyrus looked again at the figurine he had tried to move earlier, trying to reach out and feel it again as he let go of the blue magic on his own soul — it left him feeling overly light for a few moments afterward — and attempted to grab for the toy.

Nothing.

“Maybe I just need to be closer.” He spoke his thoughts aloud to fill the silence that was starting to bother him for some reason, stepping over to the table and opting to pick up the figurine by hand. He felt its heft and unique weight, a bit bigger than the others since this one seemed to be some kind of boss type creature. “Wonder what would happen if I…” The flames still wreathed his hand, so he tried feeding that energy into the toy slowly, brow furrowing again in concentration.

His bones tingled with renewed strength as he tried this, feeling like he was meeting some kind of resistance from the object he was working with. “Wrong frequency?” he wondered to noone but himself.

Eye lights went a little hazy as he started to tune his magical signature up and then down the scales. Some things needed specific “notes” to respond. It wasn’t unlike finding the right resonance when singing to shatter glass.

The figurine seemed to waver for a brief moment as Papyrus found the right tone, though the resonance ricocheted back into the skeleton like a tuning fork hit too hard, causing him to drop it as he fell backwards onto the rug again, bones rattling as he grabbed at his cranium with an exclamation of surprise and discomfort as everything rang for several seconds.

“Nyeh... “ he groaned as that ringing inside his skull finally started to die down, noting that he was on the floor again. This was becoming a bad habit. “Okay,” he breathed, blinking scrunched eye sockets open again. “Not so much power next time.” A pause. “In fact, a heck of a lot _less_ power. ” He rubbed at his temple, bone scraping bone lightly, though he was pleased that sore spot from earlier seemed to have gone away. Perhaps he’d been spared a mark after all.

Leaning forward, he picked up the figure he’d dropped in his technically successful attempt at communing with the inanimate object, resuming his seated position on the carpet once more. It was probably better for his coccyx if he remained seated for this test. “Okay, same frequency, just a tiny bit of power.” A pause. “What was the note again?” Brow furrowed. It had been a fairly low one, but the exact one eluded him. “Just try again without so much force, Papyrus. You can do it.” It was easy to imagine Sans was the one there giving him that pep talk, the image earning a soft smile that was decidedly fond.

He closed his eyes again, starting with the last few notes he recalled testing clearly as the sound vibrating through his soul descended, using only a tiny sliver of power as he let those magically resonate sounds flow through his fingers and into the statue. It only took a handful of pitch changes to find the correct one this time, the toy suddenly feeling warm in his hands, though it mercifully didn’t backlash at the skeleton the way it had before. 

“Okay,” he breathed, opening his eyes as he held that note in his mind, feeling his magic intertwine with whatever energy was in the toy, making it suddenly feel a lot heavier in his hands as he let it shift from simple resonance to actually feeding it that specific blue magic. He tried to lift it up with his hands while it was weighed down with his magical intent, finding it difficult, though not quite impossible just yet. He wondered vaguely if it would be possible to crush something under its own weight, but decided that he should save that experiment for an object he wasn’t so fond of.

“So,” he mused, looking up toward the ceiling as his hands rested on the rug between his splayed, denim covered legs, “I can make it heavy like Sans showed me. How about changing the direction of its gravity?” Reversing the direction of up and down felt surprisingly easy as he just let it happen inside his mind, like a little shift in his own perspective for the object he held. Much to his delight and chagrin the action figure promptly “fell” toward the ceiling, but due to its still added gravity it hit rather hard, the material shuddering out a groan of protest that matched Papyrus’ own as he grimaced. “Oops. Uh, forgot about that.”

A sudden noise outside made the young skeleton whip his head about to look toward his still open bedroom door, the interruption dispelling his gathered magic so that the figure fell back down to the carpet even as Papyrus scrambled to his feet to go check on the sound. Was Sans home already? It seemed unlikely given his track record lately, but he dared to zip out into the upstairs hallway, looking down over the bannister toward the front door and windows.

He couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or relieved when the noise turned out to be some kids being rowdy as they passed by the house, probably on their way back from the library or something. A sigh fell from him and he decided he was at least a little disappointed. He’d probably end up having dinner alone again, but at least Sans and Gaster seemed to appreciate the lunches and dinners Papyrus packed for them. Or, at least they didn’t complain about them. Was that the same? He wasn’t great in the kitchen, he knew — he’d sampled his own cooking, after all — but he did feel like he was getting better with practice, so that was something at least. He was quickly finding that more heat wasn’t always a good thing, so at least fewer things were getting _burned_ now.

Glancing down in the direction of the kitchen, Papyrus realized he was getting distracted but also thirsty. Apparently this new magic was taking at least a bit of a toll on him, but he supposed he’d get more efficient at it with time and practice. Sans certainly seemed to know _exactly_ how much power to put into each move he did. Granted, he’d been doing it several years more, so that seemed the benefit of experience, the youth mused as he padded down the stairs quickly to get himself a glass of water in the kitchen. The first one he downed promptly, surprised at how thirsty he really was once he got to drinking, but the second one he was able to take back upstairs. Well, at least after refilling the half he’d sucked down too.

This time he closed the door behind him with a grimace for the squeak, not wanting Sans to catch him in the middle of his practice on the off chance he _did_ come home at a reasonable hour today. It would kind of ruin the surprise if he got caught in the middle of his practice. He really wanted to show Sans at least some level of competence when he revealed the results of his experimentation after all. It wouldn’t be very cool to be seen flinging the proverbial pasta against the wall to see what stuck.

Walking across the room, he set his glass on the table and picked up that discarded figure from where it had plopped, giving it a quick once over to check for any damages along with glancing at the ceiling above. Fortunately it appeared, despite the loud sound they had made upon colliding, that no damage had been done. With a relieved sigh he opted to move over to his bed this time, settling down on the side of it as he turned the figurine over in his hands.

“Hmm. So, we’ve been able to make you pretty heavy and change the direction that is down, but can we make you light enough to maybe float? Like, no gravity?” He’d heard that this was a thing in outer space, where objects simply floated because there was little to no gravity to pull them in a specific direction. It seemed like a pretty interesting idea, since maybe he could use it to carry things when his hands were full. “Let’s find out, huh?”

Now that he was hydrated, the magic seemed to spring forward even more readily than before, though he wondered if he was just getting better from practice and the water was just an unrelated variable. Whatever the case, it came forth smoothly, his bones thrumming a more pleasant note as he let his soul harmonize with the action figure’s resonance once more. He watched this time as the blue wreathing his hand enveloped and sunk into the object, imbuing it with an initial added weight.

“Okay, step one done,” he mused aloud for his own benefit, pondering how to adjust his magic for that weightless feeling he was looking for. Taking stock of how the magic felt right now, he could see the sort of pressure it employed on it, and how it was coming mostly from above to press down. “So what if I just equalize that pressure on all sides?” It seemed worth a shot, given how he’d done something similar to that when switching the direction the pressure came from. Just now, it’d be spread out.

Holding that idea in his mind, he visualized that magic applying the force equally on all sides as he theorized. It felt odd at first, some parts not having quite the right amount of force applied and resulting in the figure tugging one way or another in his hands, but after a bit of trial and error he was able to make it feel super light, perhaps almost weightless. He tested it by tossing it gently upward, a gleeful sound escaping his throat as the toy actually spun through the air in a slow, decidedly weightless arc.

“Nyeh heh yes!”

His eye lights were truly radiant with delight as he watched it tumble, soon beginning to give it little subtle nudges to direct it through the air. It was a bit much at first, pushing it farther than he’d intended initially, but he soon started grasping just how much he needed to push from one direction or another to make it go where he wanted.

It was absolutely the best thing ever. There was no way that Sans couldn’t be at least a little impressed with this! He’d figured it out mostly on his own once the elder had shown him the basics, after all, and his soul thrummed bright amber beneath his shirt with sunny pleasure and pride.

Gently guiding the figurine back to his hands after several more minutes of playing with it while virtually weightless, he let the magic go and felt the resumed but still reasonably lightweight heft of it. Papyrus felt that he’d learned all he could by working with this specific item for now — plus he was starting to feel thirsty again — so he pushed off the bed to go set the toy back in its rightful place on the table, claiming his glass of water to down halfway again as he contemplated what to try next.

The fluid got his scrutiny for a bit, but he opted against it for the sake of not wanting to make a mess he’d have to clean up. Sure, it was just water, but some things could be pretty susceptible to it and he didn’t want to risk it. Better to save that test for a time he could be outside instead. He took another sip instead as he wondered about making himself weightless, thinking about how it might help him jump higher or do other really cool acrobatic stuff. He really enjoyed it to begin with, his light weight making him pretty agile compared to a lot of the other monster kids. He’d been able to flip himself with a tug, however imperfectly, so perhaps the other was doable too. It seemed reasonable enough in theory at least.

Papyrus glanced around his room with a small frown. There was a good amount of space he supposed, but having cracked his cranium on the ceiling once already today he wasn’t keen on repeating the experience. His attention went to the door with its squeaky hinges. “Suppose I could go outside to try and get the oil on the way back in.” He glanced back down at his backpack and then finally to the clock before deciding he had plenty of time for everything, especially since he was really confident the homework would take him nearly no time at all.

Decision made, he polished the water glass and set it down on his desk so he could go back into the closet for his jumper and scarf, able to see a light snow starting to fall outside through his window. It would be pleasant, but no reason to go outside without proper protection on, even sans skin. He grabbed his cup on the way out his bedroom door, giving a quick check to ensure nothing was out of place on the way downstairs. The glass was placed into the sink first — knowing he’d probably reuse it when he came back in anyway — before he went to the table near the door, a brief rummage through the shallow drawer netting him the shed key he was looking for, which went into his pocket along with his house key. Shoes were tugged on with some haste, though he took the time to properly lace them up. Breaking anything due to a dumb accident was not on his agenda for the afternoon!

The skeleton locked the door behind him habitually as he exited out the front door, taking a moment to glance around for any signs of nosey passer-bys or incoming family members. For a change he was really glad to only see and hear the soft whisper of snow in both directions. He’d been right though, the snow felt really nice as it fell so lightly to the ground, covering the few tracks that did make their way past the semi-remote dwelling. Papyrus made a few new tracks on his way around to the back of the house, but his steps were light and he knew those would fill in soon enough as well.

Feeling energetic — well, more energetic than usual — Papyrus opted to vault over the low, chain link fence with one hand rather than use the gate as was proper. Exhilaration broadened his smile as he landed in a run, letting himself take a generous number of steps toward the center of the backyard before slowing to a halt.

Making a slow turn in place, he let his gaze roam over the generous backyard, the house on one side and fluffy evergreens surrounding much of the grounds around the fence that marked its perimeter off. Closing his eye sockets he turned his face toward the simulated sky, feeling the snowflakes landing on his warm bones and kissing them with frost in a way that made his smile turn fond again. It was probably a good thing Sans wasn’t there seeing him get all nostalgic, but it felt nice to reflect on all the times they’d shared in the snow together. He really hoped they’d have more time down the line to hang out, but Papyrus was really proud of everything his elder sibling had been accomplishing so far, which only made him want to work that much harder to catch up.

Sighing out a breath through his nasal bone disturbed the white powder that had settled there, prompting Papyrus to shake his skull off along with a light brushing of his phalanges over the smooth ossein before he opened his eye sockets again. As easy as it was to get lost in those reminiscences, he knew he had work to do. Another light shake was given to clear the flakes off his jacket too as he debated how to start. The ceiling of the cavern Snowdin was in was quite a ways up, so he wasn’t keen to find out what it felt like to walk upside down on that just yet. It sounded like a recipe for broken bones with a “fall” that far anyway, and that was the last thing he needed to worry his family about right now.

“So, time to defy gravity?” Papyrus mused as he began to gather that increasingly familiar power together. Looking down at his hand he wondered if he could grab himself without having to put his hand over his own soul. It’d be much more efficient to be able to do things from a distance. After all, your opponent wasn’t going to necessarily let you get close unless they were close range, and he knew that his bones were pretty good at long range, so this new ability would be pretty useless if he couldn’t make it work from a distance.

Sans hadn’t had to touch him to grab his soul either, after all.

“Okay…” he breathed out again, psyching himself up mentally to give it a go. If Sans could do it, then he could too. It just might take him some time to master it. “Here goes…”

Eyes closed again, the skeleton reached out with his hand into the air, imagining his digits closing around his own soul as he curled them around the air before him, vaguely feeling the snow falling over his metacarpals. He felt the faint tickling of his magic around the culmination of his being, examined it, and quickly found his own frequency before giving it a second go.

This second time was successful and he gasped as his sudden weight dropped him to one knee, the magic a lot stronger than he’d intended as his concentrated effort pulled him toward the ground with the gravity of a star. “Nngh,” he grunted, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe until he managed to focus enough to lighten that pressure so his soul still had a decided weight to it — he tested this with a few shallow jumps in place — but not like he was going to crush his ribs or snap his spine over it.

“Gosh, I’m glad Sans isn’t here. He’d’ve been freaking out.” Papyrus rubbed the back of his cervical vertebrae with a chagrined, one eye open expression on his face. He loved his brother to bony pieces, but the elder could sometimes be a little _too_ protective of him when he got hurt. It was kind of nice most of the time, but sometimes, like now, it would have hindered the young skeleton more than it helped.

He was learning so much with his experimentations already, after all! And he was being careful, even if he had given himself a few uncomfortable knocks in the process. You didn’t make an omelette without cracking a few eggs, after all! 

Papyrus chuckled.

Eyes opening again, he looked at the hand held out before him, fingers still curled in that soul-grasping position. He wondered if he would still be able to keep ahold while relaxing his fingers, prompting him to try with a slow exhalation.

He still felt blue and heavy.

“Awesome!” His excitement was breathed with surprising quietude as he didn’t want his yells drawing unwanted attention, even if they were kind of remote. “So, maybe gestures can help me focus?” He recalled Sans had done something like that when putting him on the ceiling now, though it hadn’t really struck him as significant until this moment. He was sure he could learn to do it without the rather blatant tells down the line, but if it helped him get started for now, it was worth a go.

Lifting his hand halfway, he felt his soul suddenly being nudged in the other direction, prompting his bones to follow as his feet left the ground in a slow but noticeable ascent. Like he was falling up, but with kind of a weak gravity.

Papyrus didn’t want to fall up though, or at least not all the way. This slow movement and the receding ground was certainly interesting and he thought he could make use of it, but he wanted to stop and be weightless. “Okay, let’s just stop.” He lowered his hand slowly toward that midpoint, feeling the pressure coming from below him change slowly until it seemed to equalize with the pressure above, leaving him suspended but kind of dead in the water, so to speak. Well, dead in the air anyway. The snowy lawn below felt a bit too far away for comfort as he took a look down at the roof and the trees around the edges of his field of view. It was a cool sight, but probably not one he wanted to take in without better mastery of his budding skills.

The young monster wasn’t sure he’d get away fracture free if he fell suddenly either, even with those soft snow drifts.

“Time to get your head out of the clouds, Pap.” The humor earned a small chuckle, helping ease some of the sudden nerves he’d felt upon realizing just how high up he’d gotten. Hand lowered slightly, prompting a slow but definitely manageable descent back to a height that wasn’t bone breaking. Once he felt he was at a safe distance from the ground he shifted his hand back to neutral, pleased when he stopped and just hovered there as he intended.

He was definitely getting better.

Still, hovering in mid-air like this wasn’t particularly _useful_ in a fight, unless he got thrown off a cliff or something. It certainly didn’t look terribly cool just yet either, though he was certain he could work on that part too.

Feet kicked impotently at the air in a gesture that mimicked the movements of a run, but as half expected didn’t send him much of anywhere, only making the skeleton look more foolish in his estimation, which netted a soft coral blush on his zygomatic bones. He was really glad Sans wasn’t seeing him floundering like this. He’d have probably gotten a good laugh out of it, but Papyrus wanted the elder to think he was cool, not a joke. “So, how do I do this?” Feet pressed against the air idly as they found no solid purchase, the brow-bone furrowing in obvious thought as the youth tried to put all the pieces of the puzzle he had together sofar into something resembling progress for what he wanted to have happen.

“Well, I used the magic before to move my feet in the direction I wanted them to go. Could I maybe use it to make kind of a resistance spot, use it like a stepping stone?”

The musing aloud seemed to help his mental cogs turn, his focus shifting to the way he’d put his magic into the soles of his feet before, though this time he tried to think of it less as a yank, and more like a physical object to be pressed against, just like the stairs inside, as he put his foot down in a facsimile of the climb he was trying to replicate.

He was rewarded for his efforts with a sudden increase in his vertical direction, just as if he really had been climbing the stairs. It prompted him to test it several more times in a row, looking back from where he’d come in that diagonal ascent with wide eyes. “Wowie! It really worked!”

Papyrus very nearly jumped for joy before he thought better of it from his abruptly second story vantage with only his magic between him and a rather abrupt descent. His soul vibrated excitedly despite the blue magic still wrapped around it, his bones echoing that delighted buzzing as it took all his willpower not to go nuts.

But, would it really be so wrong to celebrate his progress, at least a little bit?

“Papa would totally kill me,” Papyrus noted with a rather childish giggle, the urge to do something genuinely _fun_ with this power far too enticing to the youth. Besides, hadn’t Sans told him he needed to lighten up when he got too serious?

Well, nobody would be the wiser if he didn’t get hurt, right?

Easy then. Just don’t get hurt.

That decision seemed to snap the dam he’d imposed on himself in holding back, finally giving himself the chance to really play around with the results of his earlier experimentation in full. Papyrus ascended and descended on steps made by pure will and magic alone, soon graduating to actual acrobatics as the movements flowed seamlessly between the physical and metaphysical. He giggled gleefully as he brushed his fingers along the needly tops of those pine trees, sending the snow gathered on their branches up into a hazy flurry of white that he twirled in briefly before gliding away in a movement that reminded him of going skating on the big lake. This inspired his next several sweeping motions as he dipped into the trees, using the branches as additional hand holds as he zipped around and between them before finally swinging back into the open with a loud whoop of joy, letting the low arc finally send him into a roll through the thick snow in the backyard before coming to a panting halt on his back, arms and legs splayed as he tried to catch his breath and couldn’t stop laughing all at the same time.

That had definitely been the coolest thing _ever_.

His blue magic dissipated as his concentration waned, eye sockets closing against the snowfall that was starting to grow heavier as evening approached. Despite the removal of that gravity altering magic, Papyrus felt lighter than ever as he laid there, aware of the snow getting into all his clothes and unable to muster a care for it as he grinned broadly between his slowly waning chortles.

_He’d_ done that. The Great Papyrus. Nobody else. All on his own.

It felt like Gyftmas and his birthday wrapped into one.

Feelings of thirst along with the beginnings of a niggling hunger were what finally nudged Papyrus into motion again after he’d let himself space out once he finally caught his breath. Rolling to his feet, the skeleton dusted away what he could of the snow that seemed to have gotten into _everything_ with his final tumble, knowing at least some of it had slipped into a few joints from the sudden stiffness he felt in them. It was nothing a nice bath wouldn’t take care of, he mused as he sauntered over to the fence and actually used the gate to exit the backyard this time, the metal jingling softly as he did so. The snow definitely showed signs of his somersaulting through it at the end, but it was nothing he couldn’t readily explain since he often used the space to practice more conventional agility tests.

He just had an additional edge now, that was all.

Papyrus knew he was going to need to practice more to really use it at a moment’s notice, since it did take at least a little preparation at present to get started, though it seemed to flow as naturally from him as water through a river once it got going. This thought cheered him as he tucked his bare hands into the pockets of his jacket, steps bouncing lightly as he hummed to himself on the way to the toolshed.

It didn’t take him long to arrive, unlock it, and find the item he sought in the storage space. Their father kept the place nigh immaculate most of the time so that all the tools and materials were exactly where he wanted. It was pretty nice for Papyrus, since it meant he didn’t have a protracted search to locate the desired lubricant before he was leaving the space otherwise as he found it on his way back out and to the house, only pausing long enough to secure the lock again.

Coming in from the frigid outside made the house feel almost unnaturally warm by comparison, but Papyrus welcomed the heat as it sank into his bones and thawed portions of himself out that he hadn’t realized were quite so cold in his excitement. It did have the unfortunate side effect of melting the snow and ice that remained on his clothing, so he hung his jumper and scarf up at the door this time along with taking his shoes off. His jeans were a bit of a lost cause, soaked around the hems halfway up his tibias, his socks equally drenched as he peeled them off to set atop his sneakers, but at least his turtleneck was mostly dry, save for the wrist hems. The clothes would just have to go into the hamper later.

It was really a small price to pay for the amount of fun he’d had.

Since it was starting to get dark out, Papyrus finally turned on the lights in the living room on his way to the kitchen, his first stop in that culinary corner to obtain and down several glasses of much needed water, feeling decidedly _bone dry_ after his extended magical exercise.

“Nyeh heh. I guess I gotta make my own puns since Sans isn’t here.”

The young skeleton really missed their banter from before his sibling began working with their father up in Hotland. He knew it was a really noble cause — the best because it was helping all monsterkind! — but it kind of left a hole in his soul sometimes, like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. He sighed as he refilled the glass again, draining it slower this time. If his brother had been here Papyrus surely would have expressed some kind of annoyance at the obvious pun — it was his duty as a brother to keep Sans’ cranium from getting too big, after all! — but in truth he thought the quick wit that such ready remarks showed was admirable; a demonstration of the elder’s unique intelligence and part of what made him very cool.

A warm dampness rolled down his cheekbone, jolting him from his thoughts as he reached up a hand to brush over the bone in response, coming away wet with his orange tears. “Aww, c’mon now, Pap; you’re trying to rehydrate, not spring a leak. What would Sans think if he came home and saw you like this?”

Glass clinked on the counter as Papyrus set it aside to quickly wash away those amber rivulets from his face over the sink, giving the bone an extra scrubbing for good measure with the washcloth he pulled out from a nearby drawer. He had to stay brave and strong for Sans. His brother’s support meant everything to him — though his father’s was pretty cool too — and the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint him by turning into a sentimental crybaby.

Pressing the warm cloth to his face around the nasal bone, the young monster drew in a deep breath to calm the emotional storm that had risen up unbidden, likely the result of the intense outpouring of magic from earlier he mused. He’d have to be careful with that then; the magic would likely get easier with time and practice, becoming more efficient and less of a drain, but given how intimately magic and emotion could be tied, he’d have to bear it in mind moving forward.

Then again, maybe he was just overthinking it because he was tired and hungry.

With a final sigh, he brushed the cloth over his face once more before rinsing it out in the sink. It was wrung dry and then tossed into the appropriate hamper for such things hidden down below, giving Papyrus time to finish collecting his thoughts before he moved over to the refrigerator, a faint smile quirking his features as he remembered the time he’d called it a food museum. They’d been talking about museums at school that day and how they were used to preserve stuff. It seemed perfectly reasonable leap of logic that this box that preserved their food was much the same.

Oh, how the laughter that greeted that assertion proved him wrong.

In hindsight, it _had_ been pretty funny, in an adorably innocent way. And their laughter hadn’t been malicious at all, just a bit embarrassing at the time. He couldn’t blame them, and honestly had to laugh at it a little as well now that he could distance himself from the wounded pride he’d felt then.

In a way, the memory was a fond reminder of simpler times.

Papyrus stopped lollygagging in front of the fridge, finally pulling it open to see what there was for him to reheat or cobble together. Mum had been the main cook when they were younger, but after she was gone there had been a lot of sandwiches with chips and canned goods as Papa had tried his best to fill that void. He was clearly more comfortable with lab chemistry than culinary chemistry, but Papyrus still admired the effort. It really showed the love Gaster had for them, and was perhaps part of the reason Sans was working so hard for him now. It was why Papyrus was putting so much effort into trying to make something edible for his remaining family on a regular basis. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a way he could pull his weight to keep the household functioning.

Plus, it was sometimes almost enough to let him pretend Mum was still here.

He was pleased to find that there was still some of the pasta he’d made yesterday. The noodles had been cooked a little too long, the meat browned just a tad bit much on some parts, and the sauce came out of a jar instead of being homemade like Mum would have done, but it was actually one of his better successes! His soul ached as he pulled one of the remaining containers out to throw into the microwave, making himself sniffle back sudden tears pricking at the corners of his eye sockets. He would not turn into a blubbering mess! It was unfitting for someone as grand as the Great Papyrus!

He just missed her so much.

“You’d’ve been proud of me, right Mum?” He asked the question of thin air, knowing no one would answer but it helped him focus and collect his emotions back from where they’d run away to as he lifted one corner of the container to let it vent before sliding it into the heating appliance. Bony fingertips hovered over the digital panel for a few seconds before deciding how long to put it on for, actually erring on the side of caution this time. He really didn’t want to make the pasta any mushier.

With that started he busied himself with the distraction of industry, marching back out into the living room to reclaim the oil from the end table, stowing the storage key back properly in the drawer before before pelting up the stairs to his room.

The door squeaked a request for that lubricant as he opened and shut it behind him, the young skeleton kneeling down to the lower hinge to very carefully apply a few drops to the metal joint. Papyrus looked up at the higher one but was too short to reach it. The idea of trying his new abilities sprang briefly to mind before he shook his head. As proud as he was of them, he didn’t trust that he could yet do something so delicate with it without making a mess. And oil was _really_ hard to get out of clothes and carpet.

Papyrus instead dragged his desk chair over to climb on top of, finally able to reach the upper hinge with a bit of stretching to slip a few drops of the oil into it as well from above, allowing gravity work naturally for a change. He clambered down after, hearing the distant beep of the microwave as he did so. The chair was put away before he tested the door again. It squeaked a few times as the lubricant was worked into the joints before falling silent, much to his satisfaction.

Another job well done!

He left it open as he jaunted back downstairs, the bottle of oil set on the stand by the door for when it could be put away properly in the outside shed. The pasta proved to be warm on the outside but cold in the center, so he gave it a good stirring before putting it back in for a bit longer while he got himself a glass of milk, reusing his water glass for the sake of efficiency. Given how watery his bones felt after his earlier exercise, he was pretty sure he needed a glass full of strong bones right about now.

Once the machine beeped a second time the leftovers proved warm enough to be moderately edible, so Papyrus sat down at the table to eat his dinner in uneventful silence, gaze flicking to the front door intermittently on the vague hope that he might get the opportunity to share his meal with those absent loved ones. It remained unfulfilled by the time he was done, so he simply washed those dirtied dishes dutifully before dragging himself upstairs with the briefest stop to pick up his soggy socks along the way. Those went into his laundry hamper once he was in his room, a vague regret washing over him as he spied his still waiting bag on the way out of his closet. “I really should have done that before I went outside.”

There was no help for it, however, so Papyrus pulled out his assignments and books with heavy plonks onto his desk, disregarding the yearning to remove the clammy jeans sticking to his leg bones as he flopped down into his chair. Despite his growing fatigue, the homework proved just as easily done as he’d anticipated, the sheer boredom of it the only thing making it difficult to keep his eye sockets open to finish it.

Papyrus gathered up the books and finished papers as soon as he was done to shove them back into his knapsack, taking only the barest minimum of care to ensure everything was in place and wouldn’t be ruined on the trek to school tomorrow. Getting anything less than perfect grades was beneath the Great Papyrus — not to mention highly disappointing to his family — so he couldn’t afford to not turn in his assignments, even if they felt like a complete and utter waste of his time.

He put the chair back under the desk with a bit more care, taking a moment to snatch some pajamas from his closet shelves before heading to the washroom for a much desired bath, a glance out the window showing him that night had well and truly fallen over Snowdin.

It felt great to get the snowmelt out of his joints, the warm water seeming to wash away some of the weight of his cares and easing the previously unnoticed tightness in his chest. When he was done, he dried and dressed in the pajamas he’d brought, discarded clothing going back to his room to join the socks in the tall hamper inside his closet. A glance around his bedroom assured him everything was ready for tomorrow, and a look to the clock showed it was getting late but technically wasn’t yet his bedtime.

The house stayed stubbornly quiet as father and brother remained resolute in their absence, prompting Papyrus to head downstairs to wait for them. 

Lights were turned out save for the one by the couch, conscientious of the finite resource that the Core’s electricity was, even for something as efficient as their light bulbs. He took a moment to pull one of the warm, fuzzy throws out of the storage closet before clambering up onto the couch, remote used to flick the television on to his favorite channel in an effort to fill the silence with a comfortably familiar drone. The bright colors and cheerful voices of the characters on screen were a welcome distraction as he unfolded the blanket to pull over his scrawny frame, getting comfortable against one of the curved arms of the couch.

The blanket was warm and its weight felt almost like a hug as it sank into his bones. It was easy to get lost in the fantasy spooled out by the show, the young skeleton’s voice lifting intermittently in response to various things happening while he waited for Sans to get home. The long, eventful day took its toll as his responses gradually waned, blinks getting longer as his frame slid further down until it was a curled ball with a corner pillow hugged under his skull.

Papyrus was still waiting when slumber pulled him into its embrace.


End file.
